The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-07-02
A LESSON FOR HOUSEWIVES.


1 have been very careful person all
my life, anticipating to-morrow's needs as
much as possible, preparing for winter
in summer, and for summer in winter,
and given to laying up stores which, like
the famous door plate, "might be handy
to have in the house." Moving-for limo
theus and I have been peripatetic gentry
has sometimes warned me that two
months forethought may be uncomfort-
able and reminded me of Thoreau's pity
for the emigrsnt "tottering under the
bundle which contained his all-looking
like an enormous wen which had grown
out Of the nape of his neck" 81 have
pitied him" says the delightful hermit of
Walden, mot because that was his all
but because he had all that to carry"
But during our periods of tranquility, I
think my care for the morrow, next week
and next year, has been a source of much
secret pride to me.
But last year when Timotheus and 1
went up on our annual hegira, we left
our house in the care of q young man
who had so little sense of the fitness of
things as to fall sick. Without warning
us of his intentions, he left our premises
Sin charge Of the kay" as our hired man
would phrase it, and betook himself to
his home and bed, fact which some
prowler at once made note of. Picking
the lock of our coal shed, he armed him.
self with an ak, and chopped himself
way into the house in orthodox thief
fashion by way of cellar window.
Never shall I forget the size of the
lump that rose in my throat when found
the locks of the presses in my own little
sanctum burst open, and garments miss
ing over which I had spent weeks of anx-
ious toll that 1 might be ready for winter
and possible illness.
Money and time were gone, but winter
did not delay it's coming, and we wore
the old garments the thief disdained
and-were-comfortable. Spring came
with the singing birds, and then summer,
and its glowing heat, and another relay
of old garments did duty, and now
find on reflection my greatest suffering
in our loss was in my feelings, and that
the lesson the thief taught me is worth
the price. I am sure that I shall in all
things heed the lesson, and hereafter I
shall endeavor to bear in mind that our
real needs are much smaller than our
fancied ones, and that to- morrow, if it
comes, will bring with it opportunity.
If we take not our happiness bit by bit
as it comes to us in the houre, we shall
miss it altogether. There is an over-care
and over-work that tendeth to poverty.
The housekeeper who spends all the leis-
ure during the bright summer days pre-
pairing dozens of jars of fruit, or who
laboriously bends over the winters sew
ing determined that the whole heap shall
be duly ruffied and embroidered before
the snow flies, is not wise in her industry.
In these days of rapid transit it is not
necessary to line the store room with
goodies, and it Is better to buy ready
made garments when necessary to-mor-
row, than to Mrs all the brightness out
of to-day.
And If tomorrow comes to you and me,
dear Mrs. Anxious Heart, it may not
come to the dear ones for whom VI labor,
and then amidst our tears, we shall not
grieve that we did not toll more over
their food and apparel, but that we did
not spend more time just loving them.
To-day's JOY with those bound to us
by the closest bonde, to-day's loving play
with the little ones. to-day's hours of
study, to-day's music, to.day's loving
words to friends, to,day's sympathy with
suffering, to-day's ramble across the radi-
ant fields, to-day's longing after God and
withdrawing of the spirit while the face
is turned toward the New Jerusalem, are
riches which fire and food cannot de-
stroy nor thieves break through and steal.
But these riches we cannot have if we
crowd to-morrow's labor into to. day. =
Elizabeth Cummings, IN Advance.